


the devil(s) wear denim.

by Anonymous



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Blow Jobs, F/M, M/M, Sibling Incest, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-02-23 01:40:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23103676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Even apex predators sometimes play with their food.
Relationships: Android 18/Future Trunks Briefs/Android 17
Comments: 3
Kudos: 30
Collections: Anonymous





	the devil(s) wear denim.

**Author's Note:**

> hi dragon ball fandom it's 4am and i am so fucking sorry
> 
> mind the tags!

A night so still could only ever be interrupted by the sudden, teeth-rattling slam of his skull into the side of a demolished building. 

Trunks was never shown the honor of reaction time. The androids had no interest in respect, in tradition— they cared only for that which served them best. His ears were ringing as if he’d been inches away from a gunshot and the barrel was still smoking. Dizzy with the force of impact, he tried to push himself up from the ground. His elbows shifted to lock straight and he, too weak to adjust his weight any further, sent out a second-long prayer to whomever had long ago stopped listening that they wouldn’t decide to kick them forward.

In the one blessing he’d received in his lifetime, they didn’t. Instead, 18 kicked them in the opposite direction, forcing him back to the concrete that welcomed his nose with a crunch like dead leaves in autumn. Were they talking? Trunks could swear that they were, but his consciousness was drowning in the waves of blood rushing through him.

“Hey! Pay attention, would you?!” 17 shouted, kicking him in the side to force him onto his back. He thrashed with all the pathetic force of a butterfly having its wings torn away.

“Would you just wait? I don’t even think he can talk, you know.” That was… the girl. Trunks tried again to move, but he felt the press of a designer heel into his wrist. The tip moved to dig between the bones of his forearm, showing him the kindness of a warning.

“...let me… go…” His chest rattled with a wheeze. This time, he’d not even been aiming to fight them; were they waiting for him? A full-body shudder ran through him as curious fingers prodded at his ribcage. It might have tickled, if it were the teasing touch of his mother. Oh, god. He’d see her again, wouldn’t he? He had to. “My… mom…”

18’s scoff came through the haze loud and clear. “Relax, pussy. We’re not in the mood—”

“—to _kill_ you,” 17 finished.

Trunks liked nothing about what they were saying. What were they in the mood for, then? Torture? Leaving him for dead again just to see if he’d pull through in the end? Reality dawned on him with enough violence to kill him right then as 17 started messing with his clothes. He was too slow, almost inquisitive, but the intent was clear when he started working at his belt. Renewed by a brand new type of terror, Trunks tried to writhe himself away. 18 responded by putting weight down on his wrist and letting it fracture. Oh, just a little. Just enough that it would be able to heal on its own. Just enough that he still screamed out loud.

“Stop! Stop! Let me go!” Trunks was still, despite his protests. The fog had dissipated to reveal a world just as bleak as before it had set in. He shook his head and kicked uselessly while 17 yanked his pants down. He wanted to know why. He wanted to know what they were gaining from this, but it was the same answer as before: they felt like it.

“Hey, at least we’re gonna let you live, right? Stop complaining.” 17’s voice broke into a laugh. Laughed at him, and his suffering… the same as always. No one had given them the right to be so cruel. No higher power, nor the doctor that had constructed them; they shouldn’t have existed at all. He forced his legs apart, and no amount of pressure would force his grip to budge.

Trunks whimpered, eyes screwed shut as if it would keep him further away from his nightmare. 

“Aha, so cute,” 18 remarked, releasing his arm from under her shoe to kneel over his body across from her brother. “Right? Like a little puppy. Almost makes you feel bad.”

“Almost,” 17 agreed, fingers drifting dangerously close to his cock. He drew circles on his inner thighs to taunt him and watch his muscles twitch where his feather-light fingertips touched. 18 slid her hands up under his shirt, her somehow-manicured nails scratching lightly over his taut abdomen. Her hands were so soft that it made him feel a little sick. Trunks jolted when 17 laid his hand flat over his cock, palming him through the boxers he’d so kindly left intact. That his touch could be so gentle left Trunks aching deep inside.

18 leaned forward over him, her flaxen hair brushing against his neck. She pressed her lips to his neck, nuzzling into him as if she had any right to. Her teeth nipped into his burning skin, a little taste before she tore into him, surely. When she kissed under his ear and 17 rubbed his index finger against the head of his cock, he couldn’t help the moan that slipped past his defenses. 

A hot puff of laughter tickled his lavender hair. “Good boy…” 18 murmured. He shuddered, chest heaving with panic. What kind of weakness was that? Something so simple, making him squirm and wheeze.

“C’mere, 18.”

Trunks’ curiosity forced him to open his eyes, just in time to see 17 kiss his sister with suffocating passion. In his position, he couldn’t feel disgusted by it; they might be siblings, but at least they _wanted_ to kiss each other. Her mouth slid easily against his— practiced. As 17 encouraged her further, curling his tongue against his mirror image, he tugged down Trunks’ boxers and wrapped his slender hand around his cock. 18 hummed into his mouth and wrapped her hand around his, ever-so-slightly tightening his grip with her own.

“Please- please stop it-” Trunks outright sobbed when the two of them stroked him in earnest. He hated himself. He hated himself for being so hard, harder than he’d ever been in his life, for leaking slick precum into their hands, for being unable to stop watching 17 slide his free hand under his sister’s tank top to feel her up. His hips jerked up into that warm grasp without his consent.

17 broke away from the kiss, lips shining with the vanilla-scented gloss his sister wore— Trunks could catch its sweet scent wafting from his own skin. His tongue poked out to taste it while he looked his hyperventilating victim in the eye. “Man, I wanted this to last a little longer, but…” He abandoned his post to straddle Trunks’ chest. His perfect, unmarred hands began to undo his pants. “So, here’s how this is going to go down, alright? You’re gonna suck me off, and if you behave, I won’t _choke you_.”

Wide-eyed, Trunks tried again to free himself. “N-no! I’m not doing that!”

“See, the thing about it is that I didn’t _ask_ you. Open up.”

In response, Trunks closed his mouth as tight as he could. 17 huffed a sigh at the little inconvenience before him. He rubbed his cock against the lips Trunks had pressed so close together in the last ditch effort to avoid this torture. “Alright, have it your way, then,” he said. He pinched the boy’s nose between his fingers, looking into those tearful blue eyes. “I’ll wait.”

Behind him, 18 was shedding the leggings beneath her miniskirt. She pulled them haphazardly over her shoes and set them aside. While Trunks tried to hold his breath, she rested a firm hand on her brother’s shoulder and angled herself over his cock. She pulled her panties to the side with two fingers, making a quiet noise of disgust at the thick wetness soaking through them. His face burned red, he needed to breathe so badly but he thought he could wait it out, until she sank down on his dick and his lungs forced him to gasp.

17’s expression was nothing short of smug when he took his opportunity to cram his cock into Trunks’ mouth. A fistful of his pretty pastel hair was twisted into his hand, anchoring him right where he wanted him. He sank into the heat of the boy’s throat, looking delighted at his useless struggling. 18 leaned forward to wrap her arms around his shoulders and bury her face in his neck as she rhythmically fucked herself on his desperate, twitching cock.

Trunks had never felt anything like it before. His own hand, made slick with saliva, trying to get himself off was nothing compared to the wet, squeezing-tight heat of 18 around him. He moaned around 17’s cock, the tongue that sought to push it away and the vibrations of his weak noises making the android’s hips stutter.

“G-good boy. Come on,” he muttered, forcing Trunks’ burning throat to form around the intrusion. The boy was gagging and trying to cough to no avail. 17 bent forward and groaned, holding him still while he came. Satisfied, he pulled out of his abused mouth, only to press his hand over it. “Swallow it.”

The tears slipping down his cheeks did nothing to quell the flames of hatred in his eyes. Trunks steeled himself, however, swallowing it down so 17 would let him go. Which he did, though only to slump back against his sister. Her fingers rubbed frantic, needy circles around her clit as her climax approached. Without 17 to focus on, he only had her, and her heat beckoning him to buck into it. Trunks gasped, shameful tears overflowing as his inhibition washed away and left him to hold tightly to 17’s hips (he couldn’t quite reach hers) for some semblance of stability.

“You gonna cum? Are you?” he mocked. Trunks, too far gone to deny him, nodded vigorously. His moans were interjected by sobs, equal parts pleasure and self-hatred. He buried his face in 17’s thigh when his sister came, her spasming muscles driving Trunks over the edge. His fingers bent into 17’s hips while he buried his cock deep inside 18, the biological imperative overriding everything else. She was encouraging it, squeezing him and making sounds too angelic for a demon. For all the noise he’d made, he was quiet when he came, all grit teeth and whining until the final wave hit and his voice cracked on a sharp moan.

And, as the haze faded yet again, Trunks realized what he’d done.

**Author's Note:**

> i don't have any social media for being a freak so... if you want to find me somewhere, i'd recommend blasting britney spears with a boombox in the middle of a forest at night and seeing if i show up.


End file.
